


130 BPM

by FoxGlade



Category: Dragon Booster
Genre: Gen, mistaken for dating: a life story
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-27
Updated: 2016-09-27
Packaged: 2018-08-17 11:04:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,208
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8141531
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FoxGlade/pseuds/FoxGlade
Summary: "Artha Penn is one weird kid, but at least his boyfriend is alright."Four outside views and assumptions on Artha and Parm's relationship over the years.





	

1.

Conner was raised by Ancient Dragon Priests, and chosen to be a keeper of the vast, vast knowledge that they protected. He’s a widely recognised expert on dragon breeding, both the theory behind it and the practice itself, enough so that he was offered a teaching position at the prestigious Dragon Academy. And he’s kept these things separate, with no one the wiser.

He’s intelligent and he’s resourceful, is what he means. But he’s probably not enough of either of these things to deal with… this.

“And today, she got to pick who sits next to who, and she made Parm sit next to her! He _always_ sits with me,” Artha says, with all the moodiness of his ten years. “It’s not fair.”

“Well, you do spend a lot of time together,” Conner points out. Artha pokes at his dinner and scowls. “Maybe it’s fair that other people get to spend some time with him, too.”

The scowl intensifies. “She’s being _mean_ ,” Artha insists, and despite himself, Conner has to laugh at that.

“She’s not being mean,” he says patiently. “It sounds like she has a crush, that’s all.”

The pacifying comment absolutely does not have the intended effect on Artha – instead, his eyes widen, and his cheeks start turning red. He continues to push his dinner around the plate until, eventually, he mutters, “I don’t want her to.”

It’s… not quite the response he’d expect, from a kid contemplating someone having a crush on their best friend. Not that it’s an area he has any particular familiarity with. From his tone, he’d almost believe Artha has a crush on the girl, if not for the fact that he seems to genuinely dislike her. Of course, there’s always the chance that—

He watches Artha, red-faced, push his plate away and blurt out an excuse before retreating down the hall to his room. Conner lets him go. First crushes are always awkward, and he thinks it might just be worse if that first crush is also your best friend. And probably not something anyone would want to talk to their father about. He’s glad that Lance is at a friend’s house tonight; he’s at a curious age, and would only ask a hundred questions that Conner isn’t sure he could answer.

He’ll let it be, for now. Surely things will work out for them, one way or another.

 

 

 

2.

Cassyn isn’t Lance’s _best_ friend, but she’s alright. She always brings snacks for Brain Snack time, and shares them with him while talking about stuff that’s usually cool, so he guesses she’s his friend. She isn’t his _best_ friend, though.

He isn’t really sure what the difference is between a friend and a _best_ friend is, except that Artha always calls Parm his _best_ friend, which nobody ever calls Lance. So it must be something drac.

“And he eats dinner at our house _all the time_ , now,” Cassyn says. Lance messes with the blocks on the table and wonders if he could take another leafstick without her noticing. “Mom told me last night that he’s her _boyfriend_ , but I guessed that already.”

He’s heard the word boyfriend before, somewhere. In one of the cartoons Artha watches. “Ew,” he says, “do they, like… kiss in front of you?” Cassyn makes a scrunchy face.

“Gross, no,” she says. “They just… talk a lot, and laugh. And _hold hands._ ” She shakes her head in disgust. “It’s weird.”

“I saw my brother holding hands with Parm yesterday,” Lance says, because he did, and he hadn’t really thought about it until now. “It wasn’t that weird.”

“Is Parm your brother’s _boyfriend?_ ” Cassyn asks, in a weird voice, like she’s about to laugh.

Lance thinks about it for a minute, then says, “They’re _best_ friends. Is that different?”

“Duh, Lance,” Cassyn says, rolling her eyes like it’s _super obvious_ , which it totally isn’t. “Best friends are just friends. If you have a boyfriend then it means you’re _in love_.”

She goes back to her food, leaving Lance to think about it while pushing the blocks around the table. He doesn’t really know what _in love_ looks like, except for the vague idea that it means people kiss a lot, so he can’t exactly say that his brother _isn’t_ in love with Parm. They do talk a lot, after all, and laugh, and hold hands.

He’s still thinking about it when Artha comes to pick him up from his classroom, and while they walk home, and while Artha talks about how Parm has to go to his mom’s house for the day, but he’ll be back tomorrow afternoon. Artha kicks a piece of crumbling duracrete along the empty street and screws up his face like he’s mad and sad at the same time, and Lance thinks.

He’s done thinking about it by the time Parm knocks on their door the next day, though. “ARTHA!” he shouts back into the house, stepping aside to let Parm in, “Your BOYFRIEND is here!”

 

 

 

3.

The Penn kid is a mess, Kitt thinks. He’s trying to impress her with some ridiculous move on the track, one that’s bound to end in disaster, and she can hear the screeches of his teammates from metres away. His boyfriend particularly – his voice goes incredibly high-pitched when he’s stressed, and she knows that because ‘stressed’ seems to be his default state. She just rolls her eyes and pulls away from him, and despite herself, she hopes that he doesn’t end his race in a crumpled pile like he usually does whenever he attempts a trick move.

He’s kind of growing on her, in an ‘annoying little brother’ sort of way, which is inconvenient. Liking people on the track can’t end in anything but disaster; she and Pyrrah have known each other practically their whole lives, but any feelings they may or may not have for each other get put to the side once the starting light goes off.

So it’s a mystery as to why this loud-mouthed stable boy is getting under her skin.

“Nice work out there,” she says to him after the race. She’s already set Wyldfyre up in her stable for a rest, but the Penn crew are lingering around the track. From their stances, they’re probably chewing out Artha for his stunts in the race. “Not coming last is pretty big for you guys.”

Artha, puffed up from her apparent praise, deflates visibly at her additional remark. “Just watch your back,” he says, “’cause next time _you_ might be the one in last.”

She snorts. “I’ll believe that when I see it,” she says. “Want a hot tip from someone who isn’t currently at the bottom of the leaderboard? Listen to your team, stable boy. Especially your boyfriend – he has some pretty good ideas.” Parm looks pleased, even as Artha crosses his arms.

“He’s not my— what did you do, Lance?” he says, turning his glare onto his little brother, who’s wearing a wide grin.

“I didn’t do anything!” he says, and then, “Not _my_ fault everyone thinks you’re _boyfriends_.”

“Your fault everyone thinks you’re a _brat_ ,” Artha retorts, tugging on his brother’s hair. Kitt rolls her eyes.

“Just wanted to give you a heads up,” she says, then turns and walks away.

“We’re not dating!” she hears Artha yell.

“At least _someone_ appreciates my ideas, around here,” comes Parm’s voice, slightly fainter.

She smirks. Artha Penn is one weird kid, but at least his boyfriend is alright.

 

 

 

4.

Ballrooms aren’t exactly where Seleb would choose to spend her free time, but after seven of these cursed Reception Galas, she’s at least learned to appreciate the architecture of the place. And the company isn’t always bad, either.

“I’ve had to change one of my summative assessment pieces because of the new developments,” Oscar says. He’s been tugging on his scarf for the past five minutes, and Seleb is an inch from choking him with it. “Imagine that! And I’d just fixed some flaws in it from last year, too.”

“There’ll be a response paper written within the month,” she replies. “Or there will be if there’s an ounce of common sense left among our peers, which as you know, might be a reach further than the one Seiza put forth in his thesis.”

“Oh!” Oscar twitters out a laugh. “Yes, oh, good one, it was just like Wonn and Crux’s infamous _Decoding Atlantean Poetry and Further Societal Implications;_ long-winded to a fault, without even properly addressing the post-Extinction Event context! A riot!”

Seleb snorts. Yes, the company isn’t bad at all.

And then, hopefully, it gets better. “Parmon!” she calls out through the crowd. Her son, walking slowly with a glass of something in one hand, freezes and meets her eye. She stares back. After a moment he makes his way over.

“Relative of yours?” Oscar asks. She watches as Parmon tries to edge around someone’s conversation, and accidentally collides with another professor instead.

“My son,” she replies. Oscar quietly starts choking.

“Hi, mum,” Parmon says when he finally steps within hearing range. She’d vidd called him last week of course, after hearing the news of his team’s final match, and then a month or so before that as a general check, but they haven’t actually met in person for almost a year.

At least he hasn’t grown any taller this time. “It’s good to see you,” she says, in lieu of anything better. Parmon nods.

“It is,” he says. “Well, I did see you last week, but it’s good to see you, er, here.”

“Indeed.” Oscar is looking at them incredulously. It’s an expression she recognises easily, as it’s one of his defaults. “This is Oscar, one of the gear keepers at the Academy.”

“Oh?” Parmon looks at him with significantly more interest now. “Are there a lot of gear keepers, then? Are they affiliated with the Keepers Crew? Unless I’m not supposed to know that!” he adds hastily. Oscar lets out another twitter of a laugh.

“Ah, perhaps not here,” he says, eyes glancing around. He drains his glass of sikera and gives a strained smile. “I can certainly see the resemblance between you now. Has anyone ever told either of you that you like knowing things far too much?”

“No,” Seleb and Parmon say simultaneously. Oscar raises an eyebrow.

“In any case,” Seleb says, keen to move on from the awkward moment, “Parmon is representing Dragon City at the Academy, this year. So I assume you will just have to become accustomed to him, as you have to me.”

“Of course, of course,” Oscar says. “I remember now, hmm, you must be on the same team as Conner’s boys. He’s talked about them a lot. Brutal match, that last one, but what a conclusion! Invoking the precedence of, what was it, ‘912?”

“2,914,” Seleb corrects. She’d looked it up. Oscar bobs his head rapidly. “But worth it. You said Artha won’t have any lasting damage from the ordeal, Parmon?”

“Right,” Parmon says. He taps his fingers on the stem of his glass in a nervous tic. “He won’t be able to race for another few weeks, unfortunately, but after that everything should be alright, as long as he takes it easy. Really, he shouldn’t even be walking around so much tonight,” he adds, looking out into the crowd as if he’d be able to spot a single person in it. Seleb hides a small smile by taking a sip of her drink.

“I’m sure he’s fine,” she says after a moment. Then, remembering a particular vidd call where Parmon had told her of every single time Artha Penn had almost fallen off the pathways of Mid City and into the abyss, she continues, “But it couldn’t hurt to check.”

The sound of breaking glass, high and delicate, filters over the sounds of conversation. Parmon winces. “I probably should,” he says. “I’ll, um, see you in a week. And you too, hopefully.” He nods to Oscar before scurrying off in the general direction of the disturbance.

“By Gus, that takes me back,” Oscar says wistfully. “My father always got that look, hurrying one way or another to help with my mother’s disasters. Oh, but I hope that isn’t awkward to say,” he adds nervously. Seleb smiles again, but doesn’t bother to hide it.

“Not at all,” she assures. It’s nice to see that the harried yet fond tone Parmon takes around Artha Penn hasn’t changed over the years.

She’s never been one to pry into her son’s business unduly; it’s a right she lost some time ago, she feels, in favour of her own “hands-off parenting”, as Conner calls it. So she’s never been overly concerned with the relationship between their sons. After all, if Parmon has anything to tell her, he’ll do so, directly and with a minimal amount of dithering and over-explaining.

Especially now that they’ll be living full-time in the same establishment for the first time in twelve years. She thinks about that for a moment and drains her glass.

“Let’s refresh our drinks,” she suggests to Oscar. “And speaking of Wonn, have you seen his latest blunder into the field of pre-Atlantean studies?”

“Have I ever!” Oscar exclaims.

Not bad company at all.

**Author's Note:**

> HEY YALL i s2g the next chapter of the dragon academy fic is on its way VERY SHORTLY i promise. 
> 
> so anyway. as i said on an earlier fic, theoretically all of my dbooster fics exist in the same timeline / 'verse, as u can see by one of these literally just being an alternate scene from _quickstep_ , but like. im p much the embodiment of [this post](http://wanime.tumblr.com/post/150935623500/gr33kg0ds-when-you-make-up-your-fic-as-you-go) when it comes down to it so just,,,,, go with any apparent contradictions and screw ups okay. im tired.
> 
> also, as per the naming convention for these fics, please know that this fic was almost called "cha cha real smooth". instead its the recommended beats per minute (BPM) for cha cha dancing. and, yknow, theres a joke in here about racing heartbeats too. somewhere.


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